


Assassins Do Nothing for Writers' Block

by mybrotherharry



Series: Just Another Steve with a Sassy Brunette Story [5]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The West Wing
Genre: Fluff, Love, M/M, Protectiveness, Romance, Sam is having the weirdest day, Shovel Talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2020-05-13 02:40:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19242163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mybrotherharry/pseuds/mybrotherharry
Summary: Sam is having the weirdest day. First, the Winter Soldier borrowed his book and ate on his office couch. Then, Tony Stark showed up to offer him a job. They both threatened to maim him if he hurt Captain America.As shovel talks go, these are particularly effective ones.





	Assassins Do Nothing for Writers' Block

**Author's Note:**

> I know y'all are hanging around for the Bucky-Sam interaction. So here ya go.

Sam is feeling miserable. It’s Presidents’ second thoughts meeting day, and the Communications team has managed to produce two pristinely blank pieces of paper to show him. The State of the Union has, as of this morning, no beginning, no middle and no end. Toby hbad taken the brunt of it with Leo, as he is wont to do when Sam fails, but Leo knows Sam’s shameful non-secret. He’s been staring at blank pieces of paper all week.

Asking Ginger to block all his calls, he steps inside his office, head buried in his folder of scribbles, notes and barest hints, when he nearly jumps out of his skin. His visitor is crouched in the darkest corner of his office, on the couch that Sam keeps for those long nights before State dinners and national addresses. Thanks to a new blonde in his life, the couch hasn’t been used in weeks.

The man is tall, his long hair falling serenely to his shoulders, his eyes deep pools of darkness. 

Just like that, Sam knows the man is dangerous.

He turns around to yell at ginger through the doorway.

“A little warning next time, Ginger?”

“About what?” she asks, nonplussed.

That brings him up short. Ginger notices  _ everything.  _

“Never mind,” he tells her, shutting the door. He considers - a) a conversation he had with Phil Coulson in his gym last week, b) a certain hot blonde he’s been entertaining in his bed at nights lately, c) the reason the said blonde is in DC and puts two and two together.

“Sergeant Barnes,” he says. “I am guessing the Secret Service doesn’t know you are here.”

“Tony says you are harmless.”

That voice, it strikes Sam, is the kind of voice men go to war over. In fact, men  _ have _ gone to war over it. The aforementioned loud mouthed blonde, for instance.

“I am going to set aside the rather interesting factoid that Tony Stark is stalking me,” he says, “can I help you, Sergeant?”

“Tony says you are harmless.”

“So you’ve said.”

“But it’s always good to be sure,” Barnes steps forward, and in the light of Sam’s office lamp, his handsome features look almost ethereal. “Cause Stevie’s got a good heart, and sometimes that means he can be blind about people.”

This is the most surreal moment of Sam’s life. He is being given the shovel talk by the Winter Soldier.

“Is this a  _ if you hurt him, I will hurt you kinda situation _ ?”

“They will never find the body,” the soldier tells him like they are talking about the weather, sitting on Sam’s couch.

“Okay then,” he walks around his desk to settle in his chair. “I have got writing to do. Make yourself comfortable. Unless you want to walk down the hall to the Roosevelt room and say hello to Captain Rogers?” he tries. He can’t be blamed for trying. It’s Steve’s birthday next week, and an undead best friend with a wrapped White House pen will score major boyfriend points.

Barnes mostly stares at him and retreats further into the couch cushions. Sam sighs, calls Ginger and doubles his dinner order, hoping the soldier isn’t allergic to anything. When it arrives, he goes to Ginger’s desk to bring it with him, opening the carton and handing it to Barnes.

The man takes it from him but doesn’t eat, just watching Sam demolish his fried chicken as he tries to type sentences that the President may not entirely hate. Sam waits him out for a full ten minutes before saying clearly, “Eat, Barnes.”

He practically inhales the food.

It’s slow going for a while. He’s maybe written half a page when he sees Barnes get up off the couch and move to peruse Sam’s bookshelf. He pulls down an anthology of Allied strategies from World War II. Like most World War II books on Sam’s shelf, it was a gift from the President.

Settling back on the couch, stretching his long legs, Barnes begins to read. Except for the occasional mutter, he stays out of the way.

Sam still can’t write. He keeps getting distracted, thinking of the guest in his office, of Steve’s reaction if he were to know, how his skin had looked golden in the sunlight streaming through Sam’s curtains….

He thinks of Josh, who had the unfortunate task of fighting with Captain America about this administration’s dismal record of VA funding. He thinks of the President. Sam isn’t allowed to introduce the fugitive in his office to the President of the United States, much less harbor him in a white house office, but Jed Bartlet, if he ever were to find out, would disown Sam (which is a tragedy because the President owns a first edition Moby Dick that Sam’s got his eye on.)

He can’t tell Toby either, that he is _maybe kinda_ dating Captain America. Because hooker or not, this time, Toby may genuinely kill him.

He sees Barnes straighten into alertness before he hears the commotion outside. He is getting up to investigate when Barnes stops him with a hand.

“Sir - you can’t go in there!” He hears Ginger say before his office door is flying open. Tony Stark is stepping through the office door, bright red wristbands gleaming on his wrists. 

“There you are, cyborg seven,” he says to Barnes. “We talked about this! No scaring away Cap’s prom date before they get to second base.”

_ What. _

“Where’s he?” Barnes asks before Sam can get a word out.

“Still fighting over GI Joe and war rationing,” Stark sits in Sam’s visitor chair casually, for the most part, ignoring Sam’s existence. “I planted the Russian Red Death in the hallway, so she can warn us if he makes his way over here, but we need to get a move on. Unless you have changed your mind about initiating contact?”

Barnes shakes his head. Stark looks mildly disappointed before he schools his expression. 

“Do I have to go?” Barnes questions, looking at Stark. He is gripping the book tightly. “I was reading.”

Stark rolls his eyes. “Even though I project the impression that I am the puppet master of this country’s armed forces, the head of the Secret Service doesn’t work for me. It’s a crying shame, I know, but your ten minutes are up.”

Barnes walks up to the front of Sam’s desk and holds up the book.

“You can borrow it,” Sam tells him. “I want it back, though. It was a gift.”

Barnes nods, and hides the book away inside his jacket.

Stark ushers Barnes outside, and the door has nearly closed behind them when Stark sticks his head inside again.

“By the way, Abercrombie,” he grins, “the Avengers are very fond of Steve Rogers. We do not like it when he pouts. Just putting that out there. I also love the way you write. If you ever get tired of this gig, hit me up for a real job in communications.”

Then he’s gone, leaving Sam in his empty office, open mouthed, wondering exactly when and how his life went so terribly wrong.

Shaking his head, he turns back to the half page he’s managed to write. It is dismally bad.

Pressing down on the backspace button, he clears the page and starts over.

Assassins, he thinks, do  _ nothing _ for writers’ block.

*

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this series and want to see more, leave me prompts in the comments! 
> 
> Thank you for reading.


End file.
